The subject of vacations and who likes to do what has come up frequently lately between Husband and myself. This is a "big birthday" year (60 and 50), and additionally, we are approaching -- we can see the light! -- both children finishing college, and cash being freed up.
What do you really like to do on a vacation, dear? we ask each other. We reflect on vacations of years past, what worked, what didn't. We laugh and cringe at the same time, remembering when our styles clashed, when one or the other felt deprived of an adventure. "I could spend all day in museums," I say, remembering with regret the ones that got away in Italy. "I loved lying around in the garden at the Montreux hotel, just reading all day," he says fondly, knowing how the rest of us almost died of boredom. "I compromised! I understood you wanted such and such!"
We have such different dreams for time away. I could wander and browse all day, while he likes to plant himself and enjoy doing nothing. We are conscious of the other's lack of enjoyment when too much in the other's comfort zone. We want to get away together, and we want to get away on our own.
So we sit with our laptops and look at the options and consider how it might be if we took a few days or a week in Hawaii, in Mazatlan, in Portland, on the Olympic Peninsula, on a cruise to Alaska.
It would be nice to say it's easy to plan a vacation, but it's not. We each are too independent in our own ways to fold ourselves into the other's idea of an adventure.
So we must have faith in the process, and we must have confidence that it will all work out in the end, and we will have our time away, and he will have enough time to do nothing, and I will have enough museums. We must have hope that our flights will not get cancelled, that our luggage will arrive safely, that our camera will not get stolen. We have to visualize our wonderful room, with the great view, and the pristine beach, and the great service. But mostly, we have to have faith that we will go away, and enjoy our time together and apart, that we will share new things with each other, and ultimately, a few years from now, smile and/or cringe a little when we look back.
As we plan our next vacation.
What do you really like to do on a vacation, dear? we ask each other. We reflect on vacations of years past, what worked, what didn't. We laugh and cringe at the same time, remembering when our styles clashed, when one or the other felt deprived of an adventure. "I could spend all day in museums," I say, remembering with regret the ones that got away in Italy. "I loved lying around in the garden at the Montreux hotel, just reading all day," he says fondly, knowing how the rest of us almost died of boredom. "I compromised! I understood you wanted such and such!"
We have such different dreams for time away. I could wander and browse all day, while he likes to plant himself and enjoy doing nothing. We are conscious of the other's lack of enjoyment when too much in the other's comfort zone. We want to get away together, and we want to get away on our own.
So we sit with our laptops and look at the options and consider how it might be if we took a few days or a week in Hawaii, in Mazatlan, in Portland, on the Olympic Peninsula, on a cruise to Alaska.
It would be nice to say it's easy to plan a vacation, but it's not. We each are too independent in our own ways to fold ourselves into the other's idea of an adventure.
So we must have faith in the process, and we must have confidence that it will all work out in the end, and we will have our time away, and he will have enough time to do nothing, and I will have enough museums. We must have hope that our flights will not get cancelled, that our luggage will arrive safely, that our camera will not get stolen. We have to visualize our wonderful room, with the great view, and the pristine beach, and the great service. But mostly, we have to have faith that we will go away, and enjoy our time together and apart, that we will share new things with each other, and ultimately, a few years from now, smile and/or cringe a little when we look back.
As we plan our next vacation.
